


No Bad Deed Goes Unrewarded

by Zeplerfer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hogwarts AU, M/M, Pottertalia, Slytherin America, Slytherin England (Hetalia), bad friends trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeplerfer/pseuds/Zeplerfer
Summary: As part of a plot to smuggle a dragon egg out of Hogwarts over Christmas break, the Bad Friends Trio pay Alfred F. Jones to distract Arthur Kirkland with a Hogsmeade date.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68





	No Bad Deed Goes Unrewarded

It was a cold, December night in Hogwarts, and Alfred F. Jones was hungry for a midnight snack. He wrapped himself in his green-lined wizarding robes and peered down the drafty hallway leading from the Slytherin dungeon to the Great Hall. Not a creature was stirring, not even a House Elf. Alfred tip-toed out into the dimly lit corridor and made his way towards the kitchens. His sneakers padded quietly along the chilly stone floor.

The coast was clear—at least, so it seemed. From the darkness of nearby stairwell, a voice whispered “ _Lumos!_ ” and a sudden flash of light blinded Alfred.

“Fuck,” Alfred muttered under his breath. He squinted his eyes and lifted his hand to block the light. “That you, Rudolph?”

“Do I look like a bloody reindeer?” the voice replied.

Alfred sighed. With the light shining in his face, he couldn’t make out the features of the shorter student standing in front of him, but it didn’t take a Ravenclaw to figure out who had spotted him. Slytherin’s most notorious Prefect—Arthur Kirkland—was as soft-footed as a cat and twice as sneaky. He delighted in catching his fellow housemates when they broke curfew. Not because Arthur cared about the rules (no Slytherin did), but because he demanded bribes to look the other way.

“You’re so predictable, Jones,” Arthur chuckled as he lowered his wand. The tip of his wand illuminated his smirking face from below. Even with the sinister lighting, Arthur was as handsome as ever. His eyes gleamed with sly mischief and his blond hair was almost silvery in the dim light. His thick eyebrows arched with wry amusement.

“Yeah. You got me. Again.” Alfred grinned and lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m starting to think you’re following me around,” he half-joked.

Arthur froze. “That’s ridiculous,” he insisted. “You’re just bad at sneaking.”

“Uh huh.” Alfred cocked his head to the side. “Don’t suppose you’ll give me a freebie as a Christmas present?”

Arthur snorted. “I’m already doing you a favor by not reporting you to the groundskeeper. He would insist on detention.”

“Yeah, I know.” Alfred casually leaned against the cold stone wall. He didn’t like getting caught, of course, but if someone was going to catch him, he was glad it was Arthur. “What’s the price this time?”

“A bottle of pearl dust.”

Alfred winced. “Oof. That stuff’s hard to get.”

“The Potions Master keeps some in the storeroom. I’m sure you could sneak it out during your next class.”

“Hmm.” Alfred weighed the rumbling in his stomach against the difficulty of the task. He could grab ingredients from the storeroom during Advanced Potion-making and pretend he was working on homework if anyone caught him. No doubt that was the reason why Arthur was asking him instead of obtaining the ingredients himself. Everyone knew that the Potions Master watched Arthur like a hawk during class.

“Well?” Arthur asked.

Alfred nodded. He really wanted a snack and maybe this time Arthur would actually be impressed. “Okay, deal.”

Arthur handed Alfred a neatly folded map. “Marvelous. Follow this path and you won’t have any issues. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Jones.”

“Yeah, same,” Alfred agreed. He glanced down at the map and tried to think of something witty to say, but by the time he looked up, Arthur had already disappeared.

* * *

Alfred returned to the well-appointed Slytherin common room long past midnight with warm toffee in his belly and lingering questions swirling in his head. Despite the late hour, the fireplace crackled merrily. Above the mantel, an embroidered snake wished everyone a Merry _Hiss_ -mas. Green wreaths and silver tinsel hung along the stone walls, the perfect decorations for an elegant and very Slytherin Christmas. 

A few students still milled about because staying up late was one of the great joys of Christmas break. Three seventh year students lounged on the leather sofas, passing around a flask of Odgen’s Old Firewhiskey and laughing amongst themselves. The Bad Friends Trio—Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert—were renown throughout Hogwarts for their constant mischief and mayhem. They waved Alfred over.

“Just who we wanted to see,” Francis said with a suave and mysterious smile.

“Yeah?” Alfred asked as he plopped onto the couch next to Gilbert. “You get more firecrackers?”

Antonio pressed his finger to his lips and winked. “That’s a secret.”

“We’re trying to solve a problem named Arthur Kirkland and I know you’re perfect for the job,” Francis explained. He set the flask on the coffee table and leaned forward. “We need someone to distract him for at least an hour on our trip to Hogsmeade.”

“Why?” Alfred asked.

“There’s a special package we’re delivering,” Gilbert explained. “I’m sure you understand.”

Alfred nodded. “So? Kirkland doesn’t care if you break the rules.”

“No, it’s worse than that.” Francis sighed dramatically. “He’ll want all our profits.”

“Yeah, he drives a hard bargain,” Alfred agreed. “So what’s in it for me?”

“Twenty galleons to keep him busy for an hour,” Francis offered.

Alfred leaned back into the couch. “I don’t know. Kirkland’s pretty hard to fool.”

Francis smirked. “Yes, but I think _you_ will find it easy enough to keep his attention.”

“Really? Why me?” Alfred asked.

“Just a hunch,” Francis replied with a sly, side-long glance.

“We snuck a look at Arthur’s porn stash and…” Gilbert began to say before Francis hushed him.

“ _Not in front of the children_ ,” Francis murmured.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Dude. He’s 16. I’m pretty sure he knows what porn is.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course!”

Francis sighed. “They grow up so quickly.”

“So… you want me to distract him because you think he likes me?” Alfred asked, struggling to contain his excitement. Francis had a reputation for cultivating romance in Slytherin House and it wasn’t because he was good at brewing love potions.

“Perhaps.” Francis smiled enigmatically. “Either way, you’ll still get paid.”

“Alright, you’ve got a deal,” Alfred agreed. He waved goodbye and bounced happily to the Sixth-Year dorm room, plotting the entire time how he would capture Arthur’s attention.

Once Alfred was out of earshot, Antonio turned to the other two and laughed. “I still think we could have convinced him to do it for free.”

“No, it’s better to pay him a little so he doesn’t suspect,” Francis replied. He lifted the flask and took a drink, then passed it along to Antonio. Antonio sipped the fiery whiskey and handed it to Gilbert, who finished off the flask and slammed it onto the table with a loud thunk.

The three friends looked at each other and grinned. With a little luck, nearly all the profit from smuggling an illegal Norwegian Ridgeback egg out of Hogwarts would soon be theirs.

* * *

The sun gleamed above a picturesque winter wonderland as the Hogwarts students descended on Hogsmeade for their final Christmas field trip. A thick layer of snow covered the thatched cottages and floating enchanted candles danced behind every window. Students ambled along the cobblestone streets and bought presents and sweets galore from the charming shops.

Alfred scanned the streets for a green-and-silver scarf and a familiar mop of tousled blond hair. He finally spotted his target outside Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop. As usual, Arthur looked fabulous in green. After taking a moment to admire his target, Alfred scooped up a handful of snow and clumped it into a perfect snowball. He grinned, pulled back his arm, and let the snowball fly. It arched beautifully through the air and landed on Arthur’s back in an explosion of white powder.

“Snowball fight!” Alfred shouted with glee a second after impact.

Arthur whirled around, wand in hand. The furious scowl on his face softened when he locked eyes with Alfred, who took the opportunity to throw another snowball right at Arthur’s chest. Arthur nimbly ducked to the side. He lifted his wand and murmured something under his breath.

The creaking noise from above was Alfred’s only warning. He barely dodged out of the way before a wall of snow cascaded from the rooftop into a powdery pile on the ground. The nearby Hogwarts students yelped and dodged into the nearest store. “Hey, that’s not a snowball!” Alfred cried, more impressed than annoyed.

Arthur grinned and shrugged as if to say, ‘What else do you expect from a Slytherin?’. He swiftly bent down and gathered a lump of snow in his hand. He flung it at Alfred who ducked and weaved behind a nearby evergreen decorated with ornaments. Alfred grabbed another handful of snow and the game was afoot. They dashed through the streets of Hogsmeade, oblivious to the innocent bystanders as they sent a steady fusillade of snowballs back and forth. Each tried to score the most hits, coating their cloaks and gloves in snow. It was a close match. Alfred had a stronger throwing arm, but Arthur was faster.

After a snowball hit his chest, Alfred laughed and gasped for breath. He ducked into the alleyway behind Hog's Head Inn and hid behind an empty whisky crate. Alfred glanced over the crate and held a snowball at the ready, but the alley was empty. Moments later a snowball slammed into Alfred’s back. He whirled around and spotted Arthur laughing behind him, another snowball in his hand.

Alfred ducked, but he didn’t duck low enough. Arthur’s incoming snowball hit Alfred square in the face, covering his glasses with a layer of blinding snow.

The snow crunched beneath Arthur’s feet as he rushed forward. “Shit. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Alfred stood up and took off his glasses. The world was a blur, though he could see Arthur standing in front of him, looking concerned. Alfred unbuttoned his coat and used his shirt to wipe his glasses clean. He plopped them back on his face and gave Arthur a cheeky grin. “I think you owe me a butterbeer for that.”

Arthur huffed in pretend annoyance. “Fine. I could use something warm to drink myself.”

They walked together to the cheerful Three Broomsticks Inn. The normally crowded pub was emptier than usual with most Hogwarts students home for Christmas break. Alfred and Arthur claimed a booth near the back and ordered a butterbeer each.

Alfred wrapped his hands around his warm mug and sipped the sweet, cream-and-caramel-flavored drink with a blissful sigh. He leaned back and soaked in the cozy atmosphere. Candle lights twinkled along the rafters and wreaths decorated every wall. Alfred glanced across the table at Arthur and hid a smile. The whipped cream on the top of the mug stuck to Arthur’s upper lip and gave him an adorable frothy mustache. Alfred felt a sudden urge to kiss the lips and enjoy their sweet taste. He flushed and stared down into his mug.

“I didn’t realize you were such a lightweight,” Arthur teased when he noticed Alfred’s red cheeks.

“It’s just warm in here,” Alfred protested.

“Uh huh.” Arthur smirked. The way his eyes sparkled with amusement was positively magical. He took another drink of butterbeer, adding more milk to his frothy mustache.

“You’ve got some…” Alfred gestured toward Arthur’s upper lip.

“Hmm? Oh, right.” Arthur carefully licked his lips, cleaning the cream from his upper lip with the tip of his tongue.

Alfred’s flush deepened and he fumbled for a change in subject. “Figured out what you’re doing after graduation?”

Arthur sighed and stared down into his mug. “My parents arranged a very lucrative position at the bank.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I don’t know. The money is good, but I’d be bored out of my mind.”

“So what do you want to do instead?” As Arthur silently pondered the question for several moments, Alfred took the opportunity to covertly admire Arthur’s handsome face. There was nothing exceptional about his features, but Alfred found it hard to focus on anything else when Arthur was around. He had an intelligent brow and a cute nose. A dusting of freckles coated his pale cheeks. He didn’t smile very often, but it was beautiful when he did.

Arthur absentmindedly sipped his butterbeer. “What I’d really like to do is tour with a Wrock band,” he finally admitted.

“That’s so cool!” Alfred leaned forward and grinned in excitement. “Man, you were awesome at the Yule Ball.” The band had been kicked out by the Headmaster himself after too much swearing, but it had been totally worth it.

“It’s just an idea.” Arthur took a quick swig of his butterbeer and glanced down at the table. “Of course, the boring jobs pay the bills.”

“Yeah, but if you get to the top, you’d have a bunch of money _and_ a ton of fame. Win-win.” Plus, everyone knew that Wrockstars were the sexiest people alive, but Alfred didn’t say that part out loud.

A soft smile graced Arthur’s face. “I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

Alfred beamed. “Anytime.”

They finished their butterbeers in companionable silence. Inwardly, Alfred cheered in delight at how well their fake date was going. Francis had been right; Arthur wasn’t thinking about the Bad Friends Trio at all and Alfred was having a great time hanging out with his crush. Once they finished their drinks, Arthur favored Alfred with a wry smirk. “Look at us, acting like soft-hearted Gryffindors. Want to go break some rules?”

“Hell, yeah,” Alfred eagerly agreed.

* * *

At Arthur’s suggestion, they approached the Shrieking Shack. Alfred regarded the abandoned house with trepidation. The entire wooden structure groaned like it might collapse from a heavy gust of wind. Large portions of the surrounding ramshackle fence had already fallen down.

“You’re _sure_ the ghosts aren’t here during the day?” Alfred asked for the third time as they reached the gate.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “It’s not _actually_ haunted. That was just a werewolf.”

“Oh, okay.” Alfred pushed the gate open. Its hinges creaked ominously,

“You know werewolves are more dangerous than ghosts, right?” Arthur asked as he walked along the crumbling brick path that led to the front porch. “One bite and you’re a werewolf forever.”

“Yeah, but at least I can punch a werewolf.”

Arthur snorted. “That’s not an effective way to deal with werewolves.”

“It’s worked for me so far!” Alfred countered. He watched as Arthur hexed the front door open and followed him into the ominous building. They weren’t the first ones to sneak into the shack during a trip to Hogsmeade. The walls were covered in graffiti and candy wrappers littered the rickety wooden floor.

The house felt empty and forlorn. Threadbare curtains moved silently as a cold wind blew in through the broken windows. Alfred shivered.

“We can leave if you’re frightened,” Arthur offered.

“I’m not scared,” Alfred insisted through clattering teeth.

Arthur gave Alfred a doubtful look, then shrugged and continued deeper into the ramshackle house. He passed through an empty dining room and kitchen until he found a staircase to the basement. “They say you can still see the werewolf’s claw marks gouged in the walls,” Arthur mused as he peered into the pitch-black basement.

“You want to go down _there_?” Alfred demanded, heart pounding with dread.

“Of course. I want to know it’s true about the tunnel to Hogwarts. Could come in useful.”

“Yeah, useful,” Alfred agreed in a weak voice. He watched Arthur descend the decrepit staircase. As Arthur disappeared into the darkness, Alfred’s only options were to stay on the ground floor, alone, or follow Arthur down into the basement. Alfred gulped and slowly inched his way down the staircase. “ _Lumos_ ,” he murmured once he reached the bottom, using his wand to light his way as he hurried to catch up with Arthur.

Alfred stood as close to Arthur as possible and stared pensively into the darkness as they explored the basement. It was cold and damp. There were fewer candy wrappers on the floor and no carvings on the walls. Arthur studied the decaying wooden paneling on the walls, tapping it here and there as he looked for secret entrances. After several minutes, Alfred gradually began to relax. And that was when he heard the noise. The sounds of rhythmic creaking emanated from somewhere above them, followed by soft moans.

“Do you hear that?” Alfred whispered.

“Yes.” Arthur nodded. “That’s not a ghost.”

“Then what… oh.” Alfred blushed and the two teenagers awkwardly avoided each other’s gazes as the faint sounds continued. “Let’s get out of here,” Alfred suggested, grateful to finally have a decent excuse to leave the haunted house.

“I still want to find the tunnel,” Arthur insisted. He frowned and stared in annoyance at the walls that refused to give up their secrets. “Wait, there’s something there,” he murmured as a pale, ghostly light appeared at the far end of the basement. The delicate tendril of light danced hauntingly, beckoningly in the air. Arthur stared fixatedly at the light and started moving forward like he was sleepwalking.

Alfred’s blood froze with terror. “Are you fucking shitting me?” he cried as he grabbed Arthur’s arm and yanked him backward. “We are _not_ following that thing.”

“I want to see where it goes,” Arthur mumbled, struggling to move forward as Alfred held him in place.

“Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope,” Alfred muttered quickly to himself. He grabbed Arthur firmly around the waist and lifted the smaller teen off the ground. Grunting with effort and fueled by a wave of adrenaline, Alfred carried a struggling Arthur back toward the stairs. In his terrified haste, Alfred bounded up the steps, ignoring the ominous creaks. Their combined weight pushed the dilapidated stairs past the breaking point. The steps snapped and split apart as Alfred scrambled upward. Alfred yelped as the rickety wooden supports collapsed beneath them, sending the teens tumbling to the ground in an avalanche of splintering wood. Alfred slammed against the floor with a loud crack and Arthur landed on top of him.

Dizzy and disoriented, Alfred groaned and struggled to escape from the wooden pile before the ghost light returned. His head pounded in pain and the ringing in his ears drowned out any other noises. The weight on top of him shifted away. A bright light suddenly appeared in front of Alfred’s face and something reached for him. Alfred panicked and pushed the creature away. He struggled upright, only to collapse again when his left leg throbbed with searing pain and refused to bear his weight.

Alfred almost slammed face-first into a pile of splintered wood; he caught himself with hands at the last moment. He gasped for breath and wondered why the ghost was taking so long to devour him. After a few more seconds, a voice began to pierce the fog muddling his brain. There was a delay between the words being spoken and when his brain finally comprehended what was being said.

“…hear me? Alfred, Alfred! Please say something.”

“Arthur?” Alfred looked up. His vision was blurry, not that he could see much in the darkness anyway. Someone was kneeling down next to him. A second later, Alfred remembered why they had been running away in the first place. He grabbed Arthur’s hand. “Don’t follow it!”

“I won’t.” Arthur squeezed Alfred’s hand. “I’m fine now,” Arthur said, but his voice sounded uncharacteristically hesitant. The bright light reappeared; this time Alfred realized that it was just Arthur casting the wand-lighting charm as he surveyed the damage.

Alfred grunted with pain. “I think I broke my leg.”

“I think you also hit your head,” Arthur added as he helped Alfred stand up on just his right leg. “ _Accio_ ,” Arthur murmured. A second later, a pair of glasses danced in front of Alfred’s face. He put them back on and the world became significantly less blurry.

They gazed at the wooden pile of wreckage surrounding them and looked up at the closed door one story above. Alfred might have been able to give Arthur a boost to reach the ground floor—if his leg wasn’t broken. “Levitation charm?” Alfred suggested, wincing as his leg and his head continued to throb in pain.

Arthur shook his head. “You’re too heavy.”

“Hey! You’re the one who landed on _me_ ,” Alfred reminded him.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to stay down here with—whatever that light was.”

“A will o’ the wisp,” Arthur replied with a shudder. “I’d never seen one before. All I wanted to do was follow it.”

Alfred nodded. His all-consuming fear of ghosts made living in Hogwarts a pain, but this time it might have actually saved his life. “You’re lucky I was here to protect you.”

“I suppose you’ll want a kiss as a reward,” Arthur replied sardonically. Underneath the snarky façade was the hint of something genuine.

“Obviously, but you should probably wait until I’ve gotten you out of here first,” Alfred replied with a cheeky grin.

“Or maybe I’ll rescue you and you’ll owe me,” Arthur counter-proposed.

Despite his concussion and his broken leg, Alfred laughed at the absurdity of negotiating a deal of who deserved to kiss whom while they were still trapped in the basement of the Shrieking Shack with an evil ghost light. “Any ideas?”

Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Remember those two people we, uh, heard earlier?”

“Yeah.” Alfred flushed and nodded.

“If we shout, I think we could get their attention. They’re breaking the rules as well, so they have no incentive to report us.”

“Think they’ll notice us when they didn’t even hear the stairs collapse?” Alfred wondered.

“Only one way to find out.”

They swallowed their pride and cried for help. A couple of minutes later, two hastily dressed Hufflepuffs opened the door to the basement and glanced down in surprise at the collapsed staircase.

“Did _we_ cause that?” one whispered in horror to the other.

“Probably,” Arthur lied, adding to their guilt.

Dismayed at what they had done, the Hufflepuffs fetched an enchanted broomstick and helped Alfred and Arthur escape from the basement. “Please don’t tell anyone we were here,” they begged. Arthur reluctantly agreed—on the condition that he could borrow the broomstick to ride back to Hogwarts.

Although it was less painful than walking, the broomstick ride was cold and windy. Alfred sat behind Arthur and wrapped his arms firmly around Arthur’s waist. They followed the rough mud track that led from Hogsmeade Station to the Hogwarts gates, skirting along the edges of the Forbidden Forest. Alfred grimaced as sharp pain stabbed his leg. “I told you the Shrieking Shack was a bad idea,” he complained through gritted teeth.

“Yes, well, next time I’ll let you pick the date spot,” Arthur retorted.

Alfred blinked in surprise. “So… this was a date?”

“Of course, it was,” Arthur replied, a sudden worried edge to his tone. He slowed down as Hogwarts Castle loomed above them.

“Yes, a date,” Alfred agreed. “And I’ll pick the next spot.” Warmth blossomed in his chest and he smiled to himself. He’d just been on a date with Arthur Kirkland! Admittedly, it hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped, but somehow that hadn’t stopped him from getting a second date.

“Next time though,” Arthur continued, “you needn’t break your leg just to distract me from the BFT smuggling a dragon egg.”

“Wait.” Alfred gaped. “You knew about that?”

Arthur snorted. “Please. Those three couldn’t keep a secret if their lives depended on it.”

“But why didn’t you get them to pay you for your silence?” Alfred wanted to know as they landed in one of the interior courtyards. “Dragon eggs are worth a fortune!”

“Not now,” Arthur replied. Instead of answering the question, he helped Alfred dismount the broomstick and left him seated on a bench in the snowy courtyard as Arthur went to fetch the Head Nurse, Madam Pomfrey. She examined his leg carefully and tsked. “A nasty break.”

“I ran into a tree while sledding,” Alfred lied.

“Yes, I see some splinters.” She pulled out her wand and expertly cast a bone-mending charm. Alfred’s leg went cold, then warm, and then suddenly felt almost normal. He quickly rose to his feet and grinned. “No, no!” Madam Pomfrey scolded. “You need to give it time to mend!” She sternly and briskly escorted him to the infirmary. Alfred glanced back over his shoulder at Arthur, silently pleading for help. Arthur just shook his head. He might be happy to traipse around the Shrieking Shack, but no one was foolhardy enough to mess with Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

With most of the students gone for Christmas break, Alfred had the hospital wing to himself. Madam Pomfrey explained that his leg needed time for the bones set properly and his headache required treatment to ensure that his concussion didn’t worsen. After Madam Pomfrey dosed him with healing potion, Alfred fell asleep on a cot. He woke later that afternoon to find his left leg strapped in a cast that hovered in mid-air thanks to a powerful levitation charm.

Although Alfred had expected Arthur to swing by, his first visitors were Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis. They smiled and boisterously congratulated him on a job well done. Madam Pomfrey scowled at them and crossed her arms. Her ire was well-deserved. The Bad Friends Trio had caused her significant stress and increased her workload over the past six-and-a-half years.

“You made the delivery?” Alfred asked the three Seventh Years.

“Yes, with no issues at all, thanks to your help,” Francis replied. He leaned closer and whispered in Alfred’s ear. “I’ve put your payment on your bunk so _she_ doesn’t confiscate it,” he explained with a nod at Madam Pomfrey, who narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Thanks.” Although Alfred liked the money, he was distracted by a lingering question. “You know what’s weird?” he wondered aloud. “Arthur said he knew about it. But he didn’t do anything.”

Francis glanced at Antonio and Gilbert and smirked. “Oh, he mentioned that?”

“We should tell him,” Gilbert interjected.

Antonio shook his head. “No, Arthur would kill us.”

“Visiting hours are over!” Madam Pomfrey announced as soon as murder was mentioned. She hurried over and hustled the three older students out of the room.

Francis smiled enigmatically as they left. “You’ll have to ask Arthur for yourself,” he suggested as they waved goodbye.

* * *

Long after Madam Pomfrey had left for the night, Alfred lay wide-awake, staring at the ceiling as he pondered Francis’s words. He had tried to fall asleep, but it was difficult to find a comfortable position with his leg suspended in mid-air. The moonlight from a nearby window seemed bright compared to the underwater view of the Slytherin dorms.

Alfred was so focused on the ceiling and his own thoughts that he startled in surprise when a figure silently appeared standing next to his cot. After a second of panic, he realized it was only Arthur.

“Fuck,” Alfred murmured. “Make a little noise next time.”

Arthur sat down on the cot next to Alfred. “I didn’t want to wake you if you were sleeping.”

“You could have visited this afternoon.”

“I did. You were asleep.”

“Oh.” Alfred turned his head to get a better look at Arthur. He had many pressing questions, but the truth was, they were alone together in a moonlit room and there was one thing Alfred wanted more than anything else. “So, come to pay me back for rescuing you?”

Arthur smirked. “No, I’ve come to collect _my_ payment….” He bent down and kissed Alfred gently on the lips. Their first kiss was tender and sweet, like a budding flower on a spring day. Alfred sighed happily. He lifted his hand behind Arthur’s head and gently carded his fingers through Arthur’s soft, silvery hair. He stared deeply into Arthur’s eyes, then pulled him in for another kiss. This one was warmer and hungrier as they explored each other’s lips. Arthur slipped his tongue into Alfred’s mouth and teased him with soft, flowing motions.

Alfred gulped and his pants tightened uncomfortably. As much as he wanted to continue, he also didn’t want to make a mess in the infirmary. “Hey,” he murmured. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

Arthur pulled back and arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“When you found out about the dragon egg, did you ask for a bribe?”

“Obviously.”

Alfred frowned in confusion. “But they didn’t pay you.”

“No.” Arthur quietly shook his head. “Francis made an intriguing counter-proposal.”

Alfred blinked and realization slowly dawned of what Francis had been hinting at earlier and why he seemed so certain Alfred would be able to ‘distract’ Arthur at Hogsmeade. “You made a deal with them to ignore the dragon egg because they offered you something that interested you more than money,” Alfred reasoned aloud. “And the thing that interested you more than money was… a date with _me_.”

For the first time ever, Alfred saw Arthur blush.

Alfred laughed at the sly, devious way the Bad Friends Trio had arranged the date, leading him to think he was the one fooling Arthur, when really it was the other way around. “Does this mean this whole time I could have been offering you dates instead of stealing potion ingredients?”

“No, I still want my bottle of pearl dust,” Arthur insisted. “But I am willing to sweeten the deal.” He bent down and kissed Alfred again, sending a toe-curling wave of pleasure through Alfred’s body. Alfred sighed happily. If this was the sort of resourceful trickery Slytherin was known for, then he was certain he had picked the right house.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Hiss-mas everyone! I hope you all wanted a surprisingly wholesome fic where everyone is in Slytherin. No death eaters or blood purity in this AU, just rule-breaking, bribes, and trickery!


End file.
